


A Dubious Conceit

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-28
Updated: 2006-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8062855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Captain Archer's confusion grows. Commander Tucker draws the interest of the alien in charge of the German camp--then wishes he hadn't. T'Pol and Shran come to an understanding that may cost both of them dear.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

"Daniels? Is that you?"

Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Captain Archer blinked, every movement heavy, sluggish, and seeming to take forever to accomplish. His sight was a darkened blur scrambling for memories that were no longer in his fuzzy head. Had he been drugged? Where the hell was he? And how could he get out of here? He tried to move, to concentrate on a hand he could no longer feel, limbs he could not see, in a place he could never have imagined being. Not sure whether he had moved or not he blinked harder, a tiny shock going through him when he realised the blur blanking his vision was a veil of tears.

***

Commander Tucker did not feel so good but to not comply was not even an option. The guards either side of him did not allow him to slow down or catch his breath. One minute he was squinting back at the alarmed look on Lt Reed's face then they had stepped through into some other place. Was it some kind of transporter? It must have been because where he stood now had all the attributes of a starship. He could feel the distinctive hum of engines thrumming up through the deck places beneath his feet. The area they were in was like an oval room with curved doorways but no sense of what the space was used for or where the organic looking corridors led. At least three such arched corridors branched out of the room.

The alien turned away from the Commander and uttered a word or words in some complex tongue. The tone had a softened gutteral roll to it but the effect was almost instaneous. Immediately the side of the room with no corridor branching off it began to glow then a bank of monitors and controls appeared. The alien half turned so he could look Trip in the eye. "Bring him."

The guards propelled him forward. Trip was brought to within a foot of the Alien commandant. Trip decided to try to glean some information from him. "Who are you?"

"I am the last living thing you will see before you die."

Trip felt a wave of sorrow hit him. No. The last living thing he wanted to see was T'Pol's elfin face. The alien looked at him as if he could read his agonised thoughts. "Your sentimental nature will be the death of you, Commander."

"That a warnin' or a promise?"

The alien did not reply, he was watching Trip closely. The silence stretched for a few moments before Trip tried again. If he couldn't have his freedom he could at least search for answers. Maybe the one would lead to the other? Like mama said, *where there is life there is hope*. Pity his looked so shitty right now.

"Why are you here?"

The answer was not what he had expected. "Your species intrigues me."

"I don't understand. You came all the way to Earth out of curiosity?"

"We used to have species like you on my homeworld."

The Commander felt a strange sinking feeling in his gut, as if he were wading through quicksand mated with horror. But he was still alive and that had to count for something even if only the distant hope that he could find a way to help free his friends. He tried to lick swollen lips. "What happened to 'em?"

The alien's voice had no emotion. "We anihilated them." The alien paused. "*Earth to Earth, Ashes to Ashes* as you would say."

It made Trip's skin crawl to hear the alien quote one of their oldest sayings to him. What kind of monster was this? "H.. h.. how long have you been on Earth?"

The alien sounded amused now. "Time and time again."

Trip blinked, his eyes smarting, face throbbing. As he considered what his captor had just said a palpable dread built within him making a place inside for creeping dispair. "No!" The truth hitting him like a sledgehammer, no less impactive for being so obvious and self evident in hindsight. "You've been alterin' the Timeline!"

There was a cultured cruelty about the alien that chilled Commander Tucker right to the core. A smugness that transcended species. This species was unknown to him and that made the import of what had been done even more catastrophic. Painfully he closed his eyes and for a fleeting moment wished Captain Archer were with him. The moment quickly passed. This was one nightmare he would not want to share with his best friend. He opened his eyes as the thrum beneath his feet became more pronounced then there was a flattening hum. Had they just gone to warp? "W.. where are ya takin' me?"

The alien affected the mockery of a smile, it looked grotesque on his leathery face. "Home."

Trip looked shaken. "Home?"

The alien's mouth dropped open in what could have been a silent laugh though it was hard to tell. "*Mine*."

Overcome by shock Trip just stared at the alien dumbfounded. *Oh God. I am never gonna see T'Pol's face again...*

***

Anguish and frustration roared through Lt Malcolm Reed's veins. The guards left with him and the MACOs looked placidly on. When they appeared to have calmed down somewhat one of the guards went out through the tent flap then returned with two colleagues. Lt Reed frowned at the German guards. "What's going on?"

They did not speak. Maybe only the alien Commandant spoke English? It did not matter because now the guards were moving away from the Enterprise crew. Corporals Fox and Mayo looked at the Armoury Officer but he did not have a clue what it meant either. The guards then cast a look back at their captives, turned and walked smartly to the area where the commandant had disappeared with Trip and two guards. Mouth dropping open, Malcolm watched as they took a last step and vanished. "Bloody hell!"

Before he could recover something shimmered and in the blink of an eye the tent and all its' contents disappeared as well. Lt Reed blinked, stared in numb shock at the MACOs then realised his hands were no longer handcuffed. He shook his head. Puzzled. It was Corporal Fox who brought him out of his daze. "Sir? What the hell just happened?"

Shaken, Malcolm Reed could only tell the truth. "Buggered if I know."

***

Commander Shran could barely suppress his rage. "What have you done?"

T'Pol stared at him in stony silence for a moment, her own anger now an icy calm of rigid self control. "We picked up the Captain's biosign."

As understanding dawned the anger abated and a look close to regret flickered across the blue face. He raised his right fist and slowly opened it. T'Pol raised an elegant brow. Shran looked down into his palm and drawn by the mime T'Pol stepped closer and looked at the bloody but distinctive transponder. She did not need to scan it to know that the blood was Captain Archer's. Slowly she dragged her eyes from the device to meet the Andorian's gaze. "Is Captain Archer dead?"

"I don't know. I was looking for him and found this on the bed where I presume he had been laying. It was some kind of crude hospital."

The Vulcan thought for a moment. "If you only found the transponder," She reasoned slowly. "It may simply mean his captors have discovered it and removed it themselves."

"Then why leave it on the bed? Why not dispose of it or seal it away for later study?"

T'Pol blinked at him once. Good question. For now she did not have a logical answer. Commander Shran could feel himself getting impatient. "You must send me back."

"You cannot go back."

Anger flared on his blue face but T'Pol held up a hand.

"They would surely kill you."

A look of disbelief mingled with dry amusement shone in his eyes. "What is this? Concern, from a Vulcan?"

"I merely point out the logical outcome of such a rash decision."

"Lt Dala is still on the surface."

"Did you see anyone else?"

He watched her face intently. Vulcans were very private people and masked their emotions as effectively as their thoughts but this Vulcan appeared to have a weakness. Then he caught it. The faintest glimmer. She was worried about the pink skins. He spoke with care, watching her closely. "I saw four pink skins. Commander Tucker appeared to be injured but was standing."

T'Pol paled slightly. "Injured?" When Shran did not elaborate there was no mistaking the hardening of her tone or the barely surpressed urgency behind it. "Explain."

It was so tempting to taunt the Vulcan, to drag every word out and drive her mad but for once Shran did not feel like it. He did not hate the pink skins no matter how much they might infuriate him at times. He actually respected the sometimes moralising Captain and liked the human Commander even if he did not understand everything that tumbled from the Southerner's mouth. Commander Shran explained everything he had seen feeling a flicker of concern himself at the fact that the pink skins were handcuffed and plainly being held captive. If he could have helped them with a diversion he would have considered it despite the fact that Andorians had no interest in the affairs of others. Yet in an odd way he felt drawn to them. A fact that both irked and intrigued him.

Just then a call came over the com from the bridge. It was Ensign Sato. T'Pol and Shran straightened at the news that Hoshi was picking up human biosigns. Hope glimmered deep in the Vulcan's eyes. Commander Shran stepped off the transporter pad and listened intently without interrupting, his antennae moving slowly as if tasting the words in the air to filter out any lies.

"How many?"

There was the slightest pause. "Three."

T'Pol did not dare delay this chance to retrieve members of the crew. Quickly she readied the transporter and once they had locked on she energised. Shran turned and watched the shimmer as Lt Reed and two MACOs appeared. T'Pol's face was a blank canvas, devoid of expression as she walked over to them her eyes fastened like limpets onto Malcolm Reed's pale and pinched face. "What happened, Lieutenant, and where is Commander Tucker?"

***

"Try not to move."

The disembodied voice did nothing to quell the rising panic in Captain Archer's chest. He felt as if he was on some interminable roller coaster. The images and information now coming too thick and fast for assimilation. It was not that his stream of consciousness had speeded up just the amount of information he was trying to process. Nothing made sense but in an odd sort of way everything felt connected. As if there was a natural progression. He had no idea what it meant or what he was supposed to do with the dubious knowledge. Was this what going mad felt like?

A sense of shock rippled through him as a fine cold mist swept over his body both chilling and envigorating him.

"What are you doing to me?"

"Watch. Listen. Learn." Said the voice dispassionately.

"I don't understand."

The voice spoke one last time, much fainter now. "Remember."

Remember? Remember what? Was this torture or some obscure act of compassion? A cruel taunting or clues to his eventual escape from the treadmill? Or was it nothing but a delusion? Some part of his psyche breaking down and firing off random disjointed thoughts that tried to make sense out of nonsense and turned all wisdom into dust?

Then he felt something waft across his face. Closed his eyes and concentrated on finding the correct correlation in his memory. Wind. He was feeling the stir of fresh air against his cheek. He had been numb for so long he had forgotten. The realisation made his eyes sting with an absurd sense of loss. His eyes fluttered open. He was in some kind of field. It was a bright Summer's day and he was happy. Light hearted. A sound bubbled up from his throat. Laughter. A carefree feeling that made his heart soar even as he inwardly wept. Then a voice intruded. Not some remote stranger but warm and familiar and pulling at his heartstrings with all the power of the past. He turned slowly and saw an impossible sight. His father laughing back, then looking up. The Captain raised his head and watched the little craft soar above their heads, became conscious of the control box in his hands and felt a surge of pride. He had done it! He had built the model and now it was flying. One day he would fly, touch every star in the sky.

The craft dipped and he toggled the controls but not as evenly or quickly as he should have and he watched as it stalled then crashed, his feet carrying him forward to retrieve it while a heaviness constricted his chest with disappointment. His father's hand on his shoulder was warm and reassuring, his smile easing the sense of failure and disappointment. It was only a test flight after all.

As he watched the memory unfold it was as if he relieved it all over again, moment by moment, heartbeat by poignant heartbeat. Aching at the image of his father, alive and so very precious to him. How many times he had relived this moment, these hours of childhood joy. The scene indelibly etched in his mind and now replayed with perfect recall. He watched it over and over again as if stuck in a loop yet never tired of the chance to relive it. Then something changed. Some sense alerting him that all was not as it had been. He frowned. The man watching the boy turned away and slowly looked around. What he saw jolted him more than an electric shock. While father and son played a figure stood off to one side and watched. Unseen and drawing no attention but following every word and gesture between the two of them. Like someone striking a gong recognition echoed loud and clear in his head but he was unable to say the name out loud. His breath had been effectively knocked out of him. The identity of the figure was unmistakable. It was T'Pol.

***

Commander Tucker was feeling dazed. As if he had somehow fallen between the gaps of reasoning and intellect to that dark dusty space imbetween, that no man's land where the mentally unstable lived out their lives in half-formed confusion. Or so it seemed. Then his mental acuity righted itself. A second later he wished it had not.

He had not known what to expect when the alien said he was taking him back to his homeworld. The place he now looked out on was a water filled wasteland. A drowned world with little islands of twisted fronds like overgrown weeds, one of which they now stood on. Stocky twisted and stunted trees made grotesque figures rising from the hardly moving waters. Their agonised branches devoid of leaves. Trip expected the place to stink with decomposition but it did not, rather it had a strange sweetness to it that made his skin crawl. The Commander did not notice that his injuries had vanished or that there was no sign of the two German guards who had accompanied him, too distracted by the sight that met his eyes. "W...where am I?"

"You do not know this place."

Trip turned his head and looked at the alien, startled to see he was no longer wearing the German officer's uniform. His scaly skin now visible all over his body. A body that he realised was perfectly equipped for this aquatic world. Trip loved the water but a place with no actual landmass was hardly reassuring. Why had the alien brought him here and what did it mean? What did he want with him? "Why am I here?"

"We ask the questions not you, human."

"We?"

The alien opened its' mouth and gave a long guttural call. Trip shuddered. Seconds passed then an answering call echoed back across the flooded landscape. Trip squinted but could not see anything. Another call then another joined in until every sound was suddenly cut off and silence fell as if someone had thrown a switch. He blinked, almost afraid to turn around. When he did it was to see the alien staring at him intently, the water around them starting to move as if some undercurrent was stirring the depths. He had no idea how deep it was and no desire to find out. As if reading his mind the alien moved close to him and hissed in his face. "Now all your questions will be answered, Commander Tucker!"

The moving water began to boil. Alarmed, Trip stepped back but there was nowhere to go. Other aliens emerged from the dark waters, glistening scales rippling down their backs and torsos. They gazed with unblinking eyes at him before turning their attention to the one who had brought Trip here. He could not understand what passed for speech among them. Then he was being forced into the water. His fear seemed to excite them. Hard leathery fingers poked and pinched him, thick nails like claws tore his clothing as he was grabbed and shoved under the water, his feet losing purchase as he stumbled and fell. He could not flail his arms for several of the aliens clung on to him and though he automatically held his breath just as he hit the water he could not hold his breath forever. The water closed over his head like a dark veil. Scaly hands patted him, claws struck out to guide him roughly while he tried to break the surface and fill flagging lungs. But he was not allowed to rise.

Trip felt as if his ears and lungs were about to burst as the pressure increased with the depth. Above him the light first faded then was bocked out by the murky water, panic rising in his chest, powerless to throw off the aliens and make a break for it. Weakening rapidly as oxygen deprivation began to effect his ability to think straight. He was going to drown, he just knew it. Sadness crowded in along with the frustration of countless questions that would not now be answered. He passed out before they reached the first level of their descent. The aliens taking it in turns to drag him down. Not intentionally cruel but oblivious to his distress or the fragile human's need to breathe air to live.

***

Lt Malcolm Reed had never felt so perplexed or miserable. He was the Armoury Officer, the man in charge of security for Enterprise and her intrepid crew yet he could not even manage to keep her Chief Engineer safe. It upset him more than words could say. That he had no explanation for what had happened simply added to his frustration. T'Pol watched him closely, trying to intuit as much information as she could from the Lieutenant's sparse and clipped words. She could tell he was agitated and upset as well as angry.

"I don't understand what happened myself but it was as if they walked through a doorway, were transported elsewhere..."

"Or elsewhen." Put in Shran thoughtfully.

Lt Reed frowned, the Andorian putting into words what he did not dare. The Vulcan turned her head to look at Commander Shran. "Why would you think that?"

The Andorian shrugged. "The alien was not human. Did not belong on the pink skins planet yet there he was. We have all been thrown into a past time--the human's past time. For the alien to be in that time also is more than coincidence."

"Then what is it?" Asked the Armoury Officer. If Shran had any insights he wanted to know. Anything that would help him get his friend back. Preferrably alive.

Shran considered Lt Reed for a moment and tilted his head slightly. "I think the alien is there on purpose."

T'Pol's patience was beginning to snap. "Explain!"

Something dark flickered on the Andorian's face. "I do not take orders from you!"

Lt Reed tried to head off any argument. They could not afford the distraction. Trip could not afford the distraction. "Commander, any information or suspicions you might have would be greatly appreciated."

The Andorian picked up the genuine distress behind the plea and tilted his head slightly in acquiessence, this time paying no more attention to the Vulcan. He would do what he could not for her but for the pink skins. "Twice we witnessed the alien technology in operation. Firstly when the Commander was taken. There was no warning, no special equipment we could see. He was simply walked away from the others and vanished. While I tried to make sense of what I had seen the remainder of the guards went to the same spot minutes later and they too vanished. As simply as stepping through a doorway."

"Did you see any kind of field? Any energisation?"

Shran shook his head. "No. One minute they were there, then..." He paused. "They were gone. The second occasion was even more disturbing. When the guards vanished the tent and everything else in it but you and your men disappeared too." Shran gave Lt Reed a long look. "I am still trying to understand why you did not vanish as well."

T'Pol took a step closer. "Are you saying it was the area they stood in that was the common factor to both disappearances?"

"Yes."

Lt Reed looked at T'Pol, could see she was thinking and wondered what was going through her oh so logical mind. After a minute or two she straightened, her back stiffening as if she had made a decision. "We must go back."

Commander Shran shook his head. "No. I will go back and pick up Lt Dala but there is no need for anyone else from Enterprise to go down to the planet."

Her look sharpened with suspicion. "I am not leaving any of the crew behind."

"He may no longer be behind you." Murmured Lt Reed without thinking. T'Pol's head jerked up and he was immediately contrite, startling a flicker of worry in eyes that normally vanquished any flicker of emotion. "I meant," Said the Lieutenant carefully. "That Commander Tucker may no longer be in this timeframe."

"That thought has occurred to me as well Lieutenant which is why we *must* go down." She turned her head to look at Shran, ignoring the flashing light on the transporter console notifying her that Hoshi was trying to call her. "Do you think you can show us where the Commander disappeared?"

"That would not be wise."

"Can you or can you not, the question is simple."

The Andorian's eyes narrowed. Lt Reed longed to smooth any ruffled feathers but before he could do so Shran gave a curt nod. "What do I care if you want to wipe yourself out? One less Vulcan is a cause for celebration." He paused and flicked an apologetic look towards Lt Reed and the two MACOs. "A shame to take your human friends with you."

"That is not your concern, Commander. Can you..." T'Pol paused and made an effort to moderate her tone. She could not help her Ashayam if she alienated the only person who could give her the information she needed. She might not find him but she had to try. Living without her human companion was not an option the Vulcan was willing to entertain. "*Will* you help us?"

Whether it was the honest plea or the use of the plural that convinced the Andorian to help she could not tell. A sense of relief stirred in her as Commander Shran nodded. "I will accompany you to the surface."

A slow elegant brow arched back at him just as Ensign Hoshi Sato's voice came over the com. The urgency in the communications officer's voice drawing everyone's attention. T'Pol frowned. "Ensign, calm down. What has happened?"

"It's the Nestra. Lt Tara has stopped trying to communicate with us. It looks like they are going to open fire!"

The last word had hardly left her mouth when the first volley hit.


End file.
